A Sound Mind
by Adamantwrites
Summary: Adam takes Joe on a trip to mark trees for cutting but he has another reason unbeknownst to Joe who is hiding a secret. Contains graphic violence and adult language and a reference to drugs.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plots are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

A Sound Mind

Part I

Every time Joe closed his eyes he saw Orin's charred body so he had resorted to taking laudanum every night. And if he dreamed, at least he didn't remember. It was the only way he could escape from the horror that now shadowed his life. And that was how Joe saw it; that the sun had been eclipsed and left him in shadowy darkness.

All of them had noticed that Joe wasn't the same as before Orin was killed. But then no one would be the same had they been through what he had, so it was no surprise to them that Joe went into himself and seemed to lose his way. Before, Joe had been generally light-hearted and enjoyed the pleasures of life, but now he seemed dark and barely made eye contact, his eyes were usually dropped. Ben had tried to talk to him telling Joe that he would feel better if he would just talk. But Joe had said disdainfully that it was bad enough to go through it once, and then to have to tell Sheriff Coffee and Orin's parents-he never wanted to go through it again-even in words.

So Joe shunned all his family's and friends' efforts to pull him out of his despondency. Adam accused him of being selfish by denying them the chance to help him but Joe had just glared at him and told him to mind his own damn business. Adam had remarked that Joe could revel in his misery then, for all he cared and Joe had left the room.

Hoss tried to get Joe's mind on other things-girls, fishing, and asked him repeatedly to go into town with him on Saturday nights but Joe said that he wasn't interested and often would go out riding instead. Adam followed him once but the only place Joe went was to his mother's grave. He did nothing but pace and finally Adam went home and told his father that he believed that Joe was so affected by what had happened with Orin's death that it had changed him in an irrevocable way; he would never be the same again. Adam told his father that part of Joe had probably died that day as well and Adam understood how that could happen.

They all noticed how Joe's moods changed rapidly and that he had lost weight and seemed anxious; his hands began to shake and a few times he had broken into a sweat for no reason that they could discern. Hop Sing chided Joe about not eating and Joe was even sharp with him, one time becoming so angry that his chair fell over from the violent push he gave it as he stormed out. Hop Sing had looked in confusion at the other three Cartwrights but they were as nonplussed as he.

Joe also had become less fastidious, shaving infrequently and not bathing as often. Hoss remarked that he smelled like a horse's ass and instead of responding with good humor as he would have in the past by asking Hoss just when was the last time he had stuck his nose up a horse's ass, Joe spat out a vulgar epithet describing Hoss' mother and both Ben and Adam had to hold Hoss back until he calmed down.

It was Adam who mentioned to his father that the laudanum was almost gone; he had wanted to take some for a headache and noticed that the bottle was low. Ben was confused; no one had been ill or injured and one bottle usually lasted them a whole year if not longer. Adam said that he felt that Joe was using it-it would explain many things but Ben brushed it off. He said that he would as soon suspect Hop Sing before he would Joe. Adam had made a small joke that perhaps that explained why they all felt so sleepy after one of Hop Sing's dinners. So when Ben went next into town, he stopped in to buy another bottle from the pharmacist who mentioned that it was odd; Joe had been in about a week ago and bought a bottle for the Ponderosa. Ben said that he and Joe must have gotten their communications crossed but since he was there, he might as well pick up another bottle of laudanum.

Then one morning at breakfast, Ben told Joe that he wanted Joe to go along with Adam to mark trees for cutting.

"Why do I have to go? You usually send Adam and Hoss." Joe held his fork as if it were a weapon.

"Well, this time I'm sending you."

"Why me?'

"Since when did you start questioning me? I said that I want you to go with Adam and that's that."

"But they just went about two weeks ago," Joe said.

"And we didn't finish," Adam calmly added.

"It's not my fault that Hoss is so lazy that he didn't do his part," Joe said contemptuously.

"Now, you lookee here, little brother. I'm just about to show you what a burst of energy I can muster to box your ears." Hoss pointed his spoon at Joe.

"You want to take me on?" Joe said, standing up. "C'mon, you big tub of lard. Let's step outside."

"That's enough," Ben boomed. "Joseph, sit back down and finish your breakfast. The reason I'm sending you along with Adam is that I feel that it's about time that you learned which trees to mark for cutting. There's an art and a science to it and I want Adam to teach you how to choose the right trees."

"Oh, great," Joe muttered, "a week alone with Mr. Know-it-all."

Adam smiled as he sipped his coffee, then putting it down, he said, "Well, it's no great pleasure to spend time with you; you're been such a joy lately."

Joe stood up again, pushing his chair back. "You go to hell, Adam."

"I've already been there and back a few times. No, thank you. And, boy, if I had a dog as surly as you," Adam said dryly, "I'd shoot 'im.


	2. Part 2

Part II

As they rode out to the stand which was about eight miles away, Adam talked while Joe listened or at least feigned to listen. Adam explained high grading since they needed trees for saw logs. He talked about the two pieces of string used to measure diameter; you couldn't just go and cut every tree that looked good, one had to choose specific ones and leave others standing. The trees couldn't be thinner than the length of the string when it was wrapped around the trunk. Some immature trees that were in bad positions, Adam explained, had to be cut as well. So Adam went on with the lesson as they rode, pointing out certain trees to illustrate points. He glanced occasionally at Joe riding silently along, holding onto the lead of the third horse carrying their supplies-the paint, brushes, food and extra blankets-as if his life depended on it, his knuckles white from tightly clenching the rope.

Finally they reached a clearing in the stand which Adam chose as their camp site.

"Here? Why are we staying here?" Joe asked while looking around.

"Because it's in the stand, it's a good site and there's water nearby. Why do you care anyway?" Adam had already started unsaddling his horse-the work they had to do needed to be done on foot. Later they would move deeper in the stand; that was the usual way it was done.

Once he had finished, Adam walked over to the pack horse. Joe still sat on Cochise. "Now, let's unload this and see what Hop Sing packed for us to eat," Adam said, pulling the items off the horse's back. Joe continued to sit, making no effort to dismount.

"Don't you plan on staying?" Adam asked, dropping the food sacks on the ground.

"I remembered something I need to do back home," Joe said. "I'll send Hoss back to help you." Joe turned Cochise toward the Ponderosa.

"The hell you will," Adam said, reaching out and pulling Cochise's reins to stop him. He then grabbed Joe by his jacket front and dragged him off his horse.

"You're going to stay and work. Understand?" Adam held Joe by his jacket and gave him a slight shake; he was surprised at how light Joe was. Adam figured that Joe had dropped at least 15 pounds if not more. Joe had lost the roundness of his cheeks and his clothes had begun to hang on him but Adam didn't expect this lightness; he was almost insubstantial. "It's what Pa wants so it's what we're going to do." And with one last shake, Adam let Joe go and Joe staggered a bit backwards.

"You'll be sorry for that, Adam. You may be older and stronger and bigger, but I'll make you sorry."

Adam just shook his head and made a sound of disgust but inside he was afraid-not due to Joe's empty threat which is what Adam knew it to be, but because until just now, he hadn't been quite aware of Joe's condition. The three of them had decided to intervene just in time, Adam thought.

Adam pulled out some cold chicken and biscuits that Hop Sing had packed and the two of them ate in silence, Joe glowering at Adam whenever their eyes met. Then Adam took Joe out and together they measured trees and Joe watched as Adam made a slash with the paint about four feet up from the base of the trees that were "saw grade." Then Adam explained which younger trees should be removed and why. Adam showed Joe how to make the mark at the base for these trees. He explained how the loggers read the different marks and what they would do. Then Adam told Joe to show him what he learned, to mark a few trees, but Joe had obviously been distracted the whole time Adam explained the process; he asked the same questions over and over. Adam remained patient and answered them; he noticed how agitated Joe was and soon the dark began to fall and Adam suggested they go start camp and Joe readily agreed.

"Go get wood," Adam told Joe once they were back at their site.

"Why do I have to get the wood? You go get it." Joe stood facing Adam.

"Do you want to spend the night out here without a fire? Is that what you want?' Adam kept his voice low and calm but Joe recognized the edge to Adam's words.

Joe shook his head and dropped his eyes. He turned and left to gather wood and Adam started pulling out the coffee and food that he would heat for their dinner.

Joe was behaving as contentiously as he had been for over a month and Adam began to wonder if this "adventure" was the right decision. But they had discussed the idea more than once and Hoss had said that if something wasn't done soon about Joe, he'd have to move out; Joe was becoming impossible to live with. Hoss said that he knew that Joe had been through a personal hell and still was going through it, but some things a man just has to move beyond. And Ben had reminded Hoss how very young Joe was, not yet 21, and that he hadn't really had to face anything like this before-and face it alone.

Adam had listened and suggested that he take Joe to mark the rest of the stand of trees. Maybe if it was just the two of them he could get something out of Joe, find some way to help him. He knew about things like this, Adam had said, and he could empathize with what Joe was going through. Both Hoss and Ben remained silent. They knew that Adam wouldn't talk about his time in his desert perdition, but both knew that it was to what he referred.

Adam and Joe ate in silence, sitting on their saddles propped around the fire. Joe, much to Adam's surprise and delight had made three trips to gather wood. Then Adam realized that it was because Joe wanted to keep the fire going all night. Adam noticed that Joe kept looking around nervously.

"You haven't been camping since you and Orin went on that hunting trip, have you?" Adam asked the question nonchalantly-seemingly nonchalantly, but he had a purpose.

"No," Joe answered, "and don't bring up Orin." Joe threw his plate and fork on the ground. "I'm going to water a tree and then I want to bed down." Joe stood up.

"Fertilize one too. Maybe it will improve your disposition-push some of that spite out of you." Adam sat and watched Joe walk away. Then he gathered up the plates and forks and cleaned them for the morning's use.

When Joe returned Adam stood up. "I'm going to go drown a tree," Adam said. Then, "Feed the fire, would you, Joe."

Adam noticed that Joe started to say something curt but caught himself and only responded with, "Yeah, I will."

When Adam returned, he stood just outside the firelight and watched Joe. Joe had dumped out his saddle bags and was ransacking Adam's belongings and all the supplies and necessities that they had packed for the trip. His face was flushed with exertion and the sweat on his brow glistened in the firelight.

"This what you're lookin' for?" Adam said.

Joe's head swung around and he stared at Adam who stood holding a little, brown, glass bottle.

"Give that to me, Adam," Joe said holding out his hand. "It's mine."

Adam squinted as he read the label. "Tincture of Opium. Why're you taking this, Joe?"

"None of your business." Joe walked toward Adam, his hand outstretched. "It's mine. Give it to me."

"No." Adam said. He slid the bottle back into his pocket. "I'm keeping it."

Joe gave a desperate sound, an animalistic sound, and threw himself on Adam and began wrestling with him. He sobbed with despair as he realized that he was too weak, too small to even move Adam more than a foot from the spot. Finally he pulled away exhausted and dropped to the ground, covering his face with one hand and began to shake with sobs.

"Joe," Adam said quietly, kneeling before him, "I'm here to help you. Let me." Adam put one hand on Joe's shoulder and Joe immediately struck it away.

"You want to help me? Give me that bottle, then. That will help me." Joe's chest heaved. He was frustrated and angry and felt the crawling fear that overcame him every time he thought about being alone in the dark with the images of Orin's burning clothes, the flames leaping up his legs, and the echoes of his screams in Joe's head.


	3. Part 3

Part III

Joe and his friend, Orin Sharpes, had gone on a hunting trip; they planned to be gone for at least a month, if not longer, since they were going all the way to Wyoming to hunt big horn sheep and, when Joe told his family of his plans at dinner one night, Ben had fussed and Adam had volunteered to go along. Hoss had said that he would like to bag a big horn and maybe, just maybe they could shoot an elk. Wouldn't those antlers look special over the fireplace, Hoss had said and they all laughed but Joe.

Joe had insisted that he be allowed to go alone with Orin. They weren't children anymore and he was tired of everyone on the Ponderosa, even the ranch hands, treating him as if he was just a snot-nosed kid. He was almost twenty-one he had stated, pushing his plate away from him and crossing his arms on his chest. Adam had chided him about throwing a temper tantrum at the table and Hoss had guffawed but Ben noticed the look on Joe's face. He realized that he did worry about Joe more than he ever had over Adam and Hoss. But there was something about Joe-he was unpredictable, mercurial and could so easily be carried away by his emotions. That left him vulnerable to the machinations of others and a target for danger. But eventually, Ben capitulated despite his apprehensions and gave his permission. Joe left with a huge grin on his face and promised Hoss that he'd bag an elk for him. Joe's heart was light and filled with his desire for adventure. He knew he'd monopolize the dinner conversation for days with his father and brothers listening to his and Orin's adventures in the wilds of Wyoming.

Joe and Orin were barely into Utah when their horses started going wild at their camp site. Joe and Orin couldn't understand why their horses were so spooked. Their eyes showed more white than anything else and their ears were alert as they pulled and struggled against their ropes. Joe walked over and put a calming hand on Cochise and he could feel the horse quivering. Cochise wouldn't be subdued and then Orin saw why; standing outside the halo of light from their camp fire was a bear, a huge bear that stood up and uttered a deafening roar. Joe felt his bowels turn to water and suddenly needed to relieve himself. Quickly his thoughts ran to the time when Hoss had told him that one time he was so scared that he actually emptied his bowels as he stood there. Joe had laughed and made fun of Hoss at the time, but now he understood.

"Stand still, Orin," Joe had called. "Don't move." He and Orin stood quietly, waiting and then the bear dropped to all fours and turned and lumbered away. Joe felt himself go weak and his knees buckled under him and he dropped to the ground.

"Ah, crap," Orin said, his face having lost all color. "Oh, crap, holy crap." Orin dropped down as well. "What do you think it wanted, Joe."

"I think it wanted the horses but I don't believe that it would have much cared whether it was horse meat it'd have to pick out of its teeth or my guts." Joe tried to calm himself. "And speaking of crap, I almost let go in my pants. Hope you don't mind Orin, but I'm not goin' far; I'm just going to stoop over there; it's downwind." And Joe stood up on shaky legs.

"Make it upwind to the bear. Maybe the smell will keep 'im away," Orin replied with a small, nervous laugh. Joe tried to laugh but nothing would really come out. Suddenly Joe wished that Adam and Hoss were along; they would know what to do.

So it was no surprise that Joe and Orin slept fitfully; any sound from the horses had them sit up with a sense of panic and Orin even slept with his gun in his hand. They had built the fire up before they lay down and every time one of them would wake, he would add more wood. Therefore, when one of the horses stomped and nickered, Orin sat up and Joe cried out, "What? What is it?"

Orin saw a shadow just outside the camp site, skulking along the edge out of the full illumination from the fire and in his fear, he fired. They heard a cry but it was a human cry, and then saw the figure drop. Orin and Joe stared at each other and then they went over to the body that lay on the ground.

"It's an Indian," Orin said. "I shot an Indian and, Joe, he don't look too old. Not even as old as us." Orin looked at Joe who was as confused as he.

Swallowing deeply, Joe said," We gotta break camp, pack up and get the hell out of here. Remember what that old man said when we stopped in Cedar City? He said that the Shoshone around here were hostile."

"You think he's a Shoshone?" Orin was shaking. Orin had never killed a man before and he certainly had never killed an Indian.

"I don't think we should stick around to find out." Joe headed back to the fire and started packing up their bedrolls.

"Shouldn't we bury him, Joe? We can't leave him like that. The bear might eat 'im." Orin wanted to give the young Indian a proper burial; it would help him to live with what he had done.

"Orin," Joe said, his voice breaking with emotion, "I wish we could but we need to get the hell out of here as soon as we can. Pack up and let's leave-I think we should head for home." Joe wanted to be home. He needed to be back in his room, secure in his father's house and with his brothers. This was the first time that Joe actually longed for them, for their presence. He wanted to hear Hoss' bold, warm laughter and Adam's comforting voice and sharp mind that always put events into perspective. But most of all, he wanted to feel his father's protective arms around him, to lay his head against his father's broad chest and be enveloped in his love and protection.

And as they were quickly packing, Joe felt a chill run through him. He slowly turned around and there stood about ten Indians. Orin was frozen, he couldn't move, could barely breath.

Apparently one of the Shoshone spoke rudimentary English. "Who kill?' he asked pointing to the young brave who still lay where he had dropped.

Joe and Orin stared at one another. Orin shrugged his shoulders.

"Who kill? He asked again, his voice louder and more threatening.

"I did," Orin answered, "but it was an accident! I thought he was a bear. Honest. I've never killed anyone before. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

One of the Indians said something and made a sharp hand motion and Joe and Orin found themselves, their hands bound behind them, dragged off to what turned out to be a makeshift Shoshone camp-one that a group of hunters would set up temporarily while finding game. There, Joe was bound, sitting, to a short post and Orin was bound to a pole taken from a travois that was being used to transport meat. His feet were bound to the bottom of the pole, his arms still bound behind him while his torso was secured as well with buffalo hide strips.

"What're they goin' to do, Joe?" Orin asked him in a quavering voice, his eyes huge with fear.

"I don't know, Orin." But Joe did. What else could it be when the braves started piling kindling and firewood at the base of the pole?

"They're going to burn me, Joe. Don't let them! Oh, please, please, do something, Joe! Please, do something!' Orin pled with him, begged him to do something but Joe couldn't think; he was too terrified.

Joe watched as one Shoshone pulled a burning stick from the flames and lit the dry kindling at Orin's feet. Joe closed his eyes as Orin began to scream. Someone grabbed Joe's forelock and pulled his face up and pointed a knife toward his eyes. Joe knew that the Shoshone wanted him to watch and that they might even go so far as to slice off his eyelids to make certain he watched. Joe thought that they must want him to watch how he himself was going to die. And as Joe was forced to watch, he saw flames climb up Orin's trousers and heard Orin scream in pain and beg Joe to help him. Tears ran down Joe's face. He couldn't bear the cries for help; he was unable to do anything. He saw Orin's face contort with agony and Joe sobbed. Then, as the flames crept higher, Orin's head and shoulders dropped, and Joe prayed over and over that Orin was dead.

After about twenty minutes, the flames had subsided and smoking embers with a few, tongues of flames trying to remain alive was all that was left. But Orin's charred body, black and twisted was still before him-as it would be every time he closed his eyes from then on.

The Shoshone cut Joe loose and the one Indian who could communicate in English said, "You go. Leave. Far away go."

Joe tried to stand up but his knees buckled and he fell. He looked back at the cold faces of the Shoshone braves and he half crawled, half stumbled out of their camp.


	4. Part 4

Part IV

Joe had never shared all the details with anyone-not Sheriff Coffee, Orin's family or his father or brothers. All he would reveal was that Orin was killed by the Shoshone for accidentally shooting a young Indian whom they mistook for a bear; they had kept his body. He had returned Orin's personal effects that hadn't been on his body to his parents and then Joe had gone home. But halfway there, he had broken down and sobbed; he hadn't saved his friend-he had been worse than useless. And, he told himself, he should have done something.

"Joe," Adam said quietly, "we can get through this."

"No, Adam," Joe said looking into Adam's calm, concerned face, "I can't-you don't understand-I can't!"

"Yes, you can. Maybe not alone, but the two of us together can." Adam gingerly reached out and began softly stroking Joe's hair. But instead of Joe pulling away from him as Adam expected, Joe gasped Adam's name and fell against him and Adam pulled his brother to him and as Joe sobbed against his chest, Adam lay his face against the top of Joe's head, and rocked him making soothing noises the way a mother does a crying child.

Once Joe's sobs had subsided, Adam pulled away and looked at him. "Joe, you need to know that Pa, Hoss and I have all been worried sick about you. Even Hop Sing has been mumbling about you just loud enough for Pa to hear. Pa's been at his wit's end as to how to help you. He blames himself, you know, for letting you go."

Joe looked at Adam. "No," Joe said, "it wasn't Pa's fault. None of it was Pa's fault. It's all mine. What happened to Orin, I should have stopped it. I should have done something-but I was too scared. I didn't know what to do."

"C'mon," Adam said, standing up and gently pulling Joe up with him. "Let's bed down for the night." Adam noticed Joe's eyes widen in fear.

"I can't Adam, I need the laudanum. Oh, please, Adam, please let me have it."

"I tell you what," Adam said. "You bed down and I'll take care of it-I'll give you some." Adam felt as if he was back years ago talking to Joe when he was a small boy. Joe was always running to Adam asking him to take care of things and Adam always felt good when he was able to say, "I'll take care of it." And then Joe would always look up to him with admiration and love. And when Adam had gone away to college, Joe was so young. And after that, after he finally returned, their relationship had never been the same. Joe no longer went to him instead of their father to save him from some minor disaster.

But now, when Adam had pulled Joe to him and smelled his hair and felt the silken curls against his cheek, he had sudden memories of Joe as a child, feeling Joe's small arms around his neck as they said goodbye at the station when Adam left for college and smelling the odor of Joe's tousled curls, a combination of soap and sweat and that singular scent that children always have. And Adam wanted to kiss his brother on his pure brow as he had when Joe was small, his love for Joe was so overpowering, but he resisted. Adam realized that he would never be able to love even his own child more than he did his baby brother; would willingly die for Joe. And that's what Joe would always be to him-his baby brother whom he loved and treasured.

Joe sat on his bedroll that Adam had smoothed out and he began to shake.

"You cold?' Adam asked.

"Yeah, but just give me the laudanum, would you?"

Adam walked over and poured a cup of water for Joe. He pulled out the small bottle and carefully added ten drops. Then he capped the bottle and slipped it back into his pocket. He knelt down and handed the tin cup to Joe.

"That wasn't enough, Adam. I need more." Joe begged Adam with his eyes.

"That's all you're getting. Do you want it or not?'

Joe sat for a few seconds, then with shaking hands, he gulped the bitter water. "I'm going to need more, Adam. I need more."

"That's it for now," Adam said. "Now lie down and I'll get you another blanket. I packed extras."

Adam gently put an extra blanket over Joe who looked at him with wide eyes.

"You're not going to leave, are you, Adam?'

"No, Joe. I won't leave. I'll be right next to you." And Joe watched as Adam made some order out of the things that Joe had earlier thrown about as he searched for the laudanum.

"Adam, put more wood on, would you?"

"Sure." Adam built up the fire and then spread out his bedroll next to Joe. "Good night, Joe," he said pulling his blanket up around his ears and turning his back to his brother. "I'll be right here."

Adam was almost asleep when he heard Joe call to him. "Adam, please, I'm cold."

Adam sat up and looked at his brother. Joe was shaking and his voice quavered. "Help me, Adam."

Adam reached out for Joe and pulled him next to him, feeling the thin, shaking body in his arms. "It's going to be all right, Joe. It's going to be all right."

"Adam, I hurt inside. Oh, please, Adam, help me."

Adam held Joe's head and started talking. "Remember that time you almost drowned in the lake? Remember I was swimming like crazy to get to you and then you went under and I thought I'd lose my mind as I tried to find you in that lake-it was so dark. And then I remember feeling your hair-it always was too long-grabbing it and pulling you up."

They both gave a small laugh.

"Yeah," Joe whispered, "you saved my life."

"You know, I dreamed about that for weeks. Once I woke up and I didn't know if I had only dreamed I saved you, that you had really drowned. I had to get up and go check on you and there you were, sleeping away. I remember the relief but I didn't get back to sleep. And after that, I used to keep track of you like a hawk over a rabbit. I was ready to pounce on you at any second and pull you away to safety."

Joe laughed at the imagery. He could hear the reverberations in Adam's chest as he laughed too.

After a few minutes, Joe's shaking became greater. "Adam, it's going to be like this my whole life. Every day and every night-I'm afraid of living this, Adam. I think I'd rather be the one the Indians killed."

"No, Joe. Don't ever say that." And Adam pulled Joe closer.

"They burned him, Adam" Joe said, his voice choking. "Alive. They tied him to a stake and set him on fire."

"Oh, Joe." Adam now knew; Joe's purgatory was seeing his friend die an agonizing and cruel death and being unable to stop it.

"They made me watch," Joe sobbed, "Oh, Adam, he kept calling me to help him, begging me to help him and I couldn't, Adam, I couldn't." Joe pressed his face against Adam's chest, clung to him, and cried as a child would.

"No, Joe, you couldn't," Adam said, stroking Joe's hair. "There's nothing you could do."

"I can't forget it Adam. Every night I see it-I hear Orin begging me and I see his face and the fire and how it crawled up him-Oh, God, Adam, won't it end? I can't do this. I can't! Help me, Adam. Please…" And Joe's voice was choked out by his sobs.

"I'll take care of it, Joe. I'll take care of everything. I promise. I promise. We'll stay here a few days and every day, things will get better and better. You'll see. I promise, Joe. You'll see."

"How, Adam, how?' Joe asked.

"The same way I did it, Joe."

"What do you mean?' Joe quieted.

"I mean by living each day and not thinking about the next. Joe, you know I almost killed a man out of pure rage. I lost who I was-I turned into an animal and I never thought I'd be myself again. And I never was nor was life ever the same again. But I think that it made me better. It took away my 'moral arrogance,' so to speak and made me realize that I had to be wary of all those base instincts that I thought I was above-but I'm not; I'm no better nor worse than the next man. And, Joe, what you went through was horrific and life won't ever be the same again-but don't make your waking life a nightmare as well by relying on laudanum as the way to cope with your fears and memories. We'll help you. All of us. That's why God put us together in a family, to help each other."

Joe lay quietly, slightly shaking from his chills.

"Adam?"

"Yeah, Joe."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Adam smiled to himself as Joe tucked his head under Adam's chin. The irony of the situation amused him; at the lowest point in Joe's young life, he had been alone and so had Adam. And now, they were together and although Adam thought he was helping Joe, Joe was actually helping him by bringing back all the warm, brotherly instincts that Adam had thought he'd outgrown. And Adam felt that it made him an even better man. But Adam knew that from now on, Joe, as he did, would carry around a small bit of insanity against which they would always have to be vigilant lest it grow greater and carry them away.

~Finis~


End file.
